Sell My Soul
by Generic Chimera
Summary: ‘…the first time I’ve seen him smile in weeks…‘Ihateeveryonetheymightaswellhatemesolet’sstartnow’ kind of smile. But still…He looks perfect.’ MattShannon, swearing, slash.


Title: Sell My Soul

Author: Chimera

Notes: Where am I going with this? No idea.

Summary: '…the first time I've seen him smile in weeks…'I-hate-everyone-they-might-as-well-hate-me-so-let's-start-now' kind of smile. But still…He looks perfect.'

Pairings: Matt/Shannon

POV: Matt Hardy

   He's fucking there again…all around…the only thing I can feel. His sadness, his uncomfortableness…

   His feelings are nearly everything now, and it's crushing. 

   This all started…

   Geez, when did it start?

   When Shan started 'learning', I suppose. 'The glorious rules of Mattitude'.

   For the first week he was smiling and laughing…joking about how the next Matt Fact should be that I broke his ribs when he was twelve…no, eleven. I'm getting old.

   Then…it stopped. And I think it was because of me. I was never best friends with Shannon; it was him and Jeff with me and Shane. And he's just the type of guy who needs a best friend. I can't be a best friend…I'm not good with that shit.

   Then the storyline called for me to attack Shannon. 

   And somehow it made it worse. The only thing worse than a friendship without laughter is a friendship without friendship.

   He hates me, and he hates that I hate him. At least, that's what he thinks.

   I couldn't ever hate him. Because he's Shannon. The only person I can think of off the top of my head who has ever hated Shannon was Jeff, and that was for maybe three minutes when Jeff was getting patched up in an indy and Jeff said that he hated Shan. As a joke. But Shannon could never tell when Jeff was joking or not.

   You could actually feel Shannon's sadness that someone hated him.

   He's like the sea. Waves of friendship just come out, and it's infectious. And as far as I know, no one has ever been immune to them. Not me, Shane, that mean bastard Steve Corino of OMEGA days, any of the boys in the back…

   Shan's never experienced hate before. Not as in spur-of-the-moment resentment that Jeff kidded around with, but pure hatred. The kid's never even gotten the worse side of indifference. Hating him is like kicking a whimpering puppy.

   And he thinks I hate him.

   If I could, I'd let him see into my mind to reassure him I'm telling the truth…actually, no I wouldn't. Parts of my mind, maybe, but definitely not all of it.

   There's a hell of a lot of stuff in there that scares me, let alone someone peeking into my head.

   Okay, I've gotten off-track. 

   So the numbness came when Shannon stopped laughing…and it got worse when I attacked Shannon…

   So indirectly this is Shannon's fault.

   Yeah, yeah. Blame it on your unrequited love.

   Oh, did I forget to mention that?

   My apologies. And yes, that was the part I wouldn't want anyone to search around in my mind for.

   Shannon has utterly no idea, of course. He wouldn't know if someone had a crush on him if they danced around in front of him wearing a thong and singing that teeny-bopper song 'I've Got A Crush On You'. Other people do, though. Edge, for one. He caught me watching Shan in the dressing room and dragged it kicking and screaming out of me. Jeff might, I probably paid a little too much attention to some old videos. Even Jericho knew, but I don't know how. Ages ago, just after I swapped to Smackdown! he left a message on my machine telling me if I hurt Shannon I'd get one hell of a beatdown.

   Wonder when I'll be getting that?

   What caused all this? Shan's just sitting in front of me, laying back with his head on one of the lockers. And it's the first time I've seen him smile in weeks. It's not…a nice smile. More like an 'I-hate-everyone-they-might-as-well-hate-me-so-let's-start-now' kind of smile. But still…

   He looks perfect.

   I watch as he moves slightly, staring me in the eyes. "What?" he snaps.

   He doesn't get an answer, and that's making him uncomfortable. His first attempt at unfriendliness and it crashed and burned.

   "What?" he questions again, a touch softer.

   He doesn't get an answer again. I watch as he starts fidgeting before he asks again, "What's the matter?"

   I swallow, then decide to go for it. "I…"

   Wouldn't that be my luck. Brock walks in.

   Neither of us like the other much. I hate him purely on the grounds of that he likes Paul Heyman who's a disgusting creep that hit on Lita and threatened her. Offscreen.

   Oh yeah, and he nearly broke Jeff's neck with a powerbomb. That'd be part of it too.

   I decide to shut the hell up, and just watch the ceiling for a while. I can feel Shan watching me still, trying to figure out what I was going to say. In all honesty even I don't know what I was going to say, so good luck to Shan.

   "Yo, Moore, feel like going out tonight?" Brock asks. I mentally tick another thing off in the air. Hate him more now, no pun intended.

   Feeling Shannon's glance, I look down again, giving my friend a half-smile. I kinda cock my head to the side before shrugging and starting to peel off my shirt, getting properly dressed. If Brock's back that means that the main event is done and I can get the hell out of here. And if Shan wants to go somewhere with him…best of luck and I'll have a splitting hangover tomorrow.

   "No thanks Brock. Rain check?" Shannon rebuts with an apologetic glance. I can feel two pairs of eyes on the back of my head, and I resolve to not turn around until at least one of them is gone. Pulling out my ponytail I redo it, wanting something…anything…to do.

   Brock's voice turns snide. "Going out with your boyfriend?"

   "Who?" Shan asks, puzzled. Bless his dear little heart.

   I walk over to a folding chair in the room and grab it, snapping it shut softly.

   "The twink over there," Brock says with a growl. "What, you'd prefer him to me?"

   I can hear Shannon's shock. "Me an' Matt ar'ne' goin' out," he stresses, his accent thicker than I can remember it being for a while.

   "Oh well," he shrugs. "Guess you're mine for the night," he growls. I can hear a slight noise that sounds like Brock grabbing Shannon by the arm.

   The chair goes flying as I can't take it anymore. My first piece of good luck is that Shannon was still sitting down. Next one is that Brock is unconscious.

   I grab my stuff and walk out. A few seconds after I hear Shannon coming after me, and the third piece of good luck strikes as he doesn't say anything. We get to the parking lot quickly, and consecutively drop our stuff in the back of our rental. We both slide in and away we go.

   Mechanically I drive, zipping past traffic and buildings at a rate that would usually have Shannon complaining about his ears popping but from the peanut gallery there is no sound. The sound of Our Lady Peace is enough to make me jerk and a hell of a lotta horns beep at me.

   "Sorry," Shan mutters, turning down the radio. He bobs his head to the words, silently mouthing them as he stares out the window. "I'd sell my soul…and you don't know, how I feel…"

   Oh dear god, help me.

   Karma's a bitch.

   Shan and I are sharing a room.

   He heads for the bathroom first, and I fall back on one of the beds. I groan, and cover my face with an arm. _Momma, why did you decide to have kids?_

   I showered at the arena, therefore nothing is stopping me from just climbing into bed and falling asleep for an actual decent night's sleep – nothing to go to until tomorrow evening, and even then it's only a house show a few miles away. I sigh and peel off my shirt. So friggin' tired.

   The bedcovers are one of those thermal ones…you know, where they can be steaming hot or freeze your ass at one on the morning? I set it to cold…really cold…and crawl in.

   Shan comes out, the smallest touch of wetness still clinging to the ends of his hair. He looks faintly…disappointed?…that I'm already in bed…and that didn't come out right.

   He clicks off the lights, and I can hear his feet padding across the room to his bed…and he just broke a lamp.

   I click on the one next to my bed and survey the mess. Shannon's standing there like he just gambled away my life savings. "You know Shan," I start. "There are these nifty things called flashlights. You use them when you can't see."

   He flips me the universal one-fingered wave. I return it, smiling brightly. "Leave it, man. We can clean it up in the morning." Shan sighs and jumps over onto his bed. The light gets clicked off, and all I can hear is Shannon's heavy breathing.

   I could get used to this.


End file.
